Some of a Batch
by Lonestarr
Summary: Allergic Reactions: How does one respond to news of this magnitude?
1. Study Break

Disclaimer: Do you know that Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon own "The Fairly Oddparents"? Not really, but if you hum a few bars, I could fake it.

**Study Break**

(...a bedroom...about dusk...)

It very much looks like the bedroom of a sixteen-year-old boy. The clothes strewn about and the guitar resting against the closet door are dead giveaways. The posters on the wall are mainly from movies, especially those not tied to reality. The pair of lovebirds in a cage hanging from the ceiling, however, is something new.

The young man sitting at the edge of the bed stares at an open, somewhat beat-up book in front of him. The look on his face suggests that he's not having the best time of it.

The girl across from him glances at her own sterling text with no problems.

"Aw, man!" He closes the book in frustration. The action gets the attention of his companion. "This is so hard."

"It's not that hard." Her voice lilts somewhat.

"No, not for the class brain. But for someone like me, it's a nightmare." He puts his head in his hands. "I bet this was some sort of torture in the Dark Ages."

"You'd lose", she replies dryly.

"Just like the stocks or--wait, lose what?"

"That bet." He gapes a little. "You see, you said, 'I bet this was some sort of torture...', so I just went from there."

"That's just what I need now: jokes that fly over my head." A defeated tone coats his words.

The girl hops off of the bed. "Really, this stuff isn't that hard." She walks over to his side and picks up his book. He scoots over, allowing her to sit down. "Here on page 163. Take this first problem."

"Please." She narrows her eyes, but tempers it with a smile.

She places the book down. "Now the problem here is a pretty good one: '16x - 4y 7x + 8y'. All that we really need to do is a little adding."

"But how the heck do we add letters? I guess if we add 'x' to 'y', we could end up with 'z'."

The girl stifles a giggle. She had known of the boy for quite some time, but failed to reckon with his sense of humor. The boy needed tutoring in a few subjects, but algebra was, perhaps, his biggest academic affliction.

She takes a breath. "No. All we need to do is add '4y' to both sides. That will give us '16x 7x + 12y'."

The boy raises his finger in the air and spins it. "Hooray for us."

The girl pays no mind to the sarcasm. "And then we subtract '7x' from both sides, leaving us with '9x 12y'."

The boy doesn't look terribly interested in this. "Cant we just take a break?"

She closes the book. "Hey, you may not care about passing your classes, but that doesn't mean that I have to feel the same way."

"But this is so...boring."

"Boring though it may be, you'll need it for life after school."

He exhales. "One more example of how life is unfair."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'm not the most popular guy in school. Everyone thinks that I'm a loser." He slouches over. "Sometimes, I think they're right."

The girl glances around his room. She grimaces at the mess; company was coming over and he didn't even clean up. She looks in his eyes and puts her hands on his shoulders. "Listen to me: you are not a loser. Messy and a little unmotivated, maybe, but not a loser. We all hits our stride at different points in life." She looks away. "To be honest, I'm still waiting to hit my stride."

He looks at her. For the first time, he notices her glasses. A little big to be on a teenage girl, but they're effective.

"People look at me and think: 'She's such a geek.'."

"How do you know?"

"Because they walk up to me and say so. As if I'm not having trouble dealing with it on my own."

"I don't think you're a geek. Well, I kind of do, but you're very nice and very smart."

The girl chuckles a bit at the boy's stumbling compliments. "That's very sweet of you."

He looks off. "If only more girls were like you. They take one look at me and laugh, or go, 'Ewwww!'."

A sad expression crosses the girl's face. She takes a good look at the boy before her: messy hair, a nice smile, nice ears, a cute little nose, eyes one could get lost in, lips she can see herself kissing...whoa! Where did _that_ come from?

She looks away ashamedly. He notices her. "What's wrong?"

"Oh. Nothing. I just..." The girl glances around. Her eyes fix on the guitar at the closet door. "Oh! You play the guitar?"

"Yeah, but it's just acoustic. I got it for my birthday. I wanted an electric guitar. I have these delusions of being the next Brian May."

"The guitarist from Queen?"

"Yeah!" There is great surprise in his voice.

"My older brother's girlfriend's a fan. She got me hooked."

"Not a lot of people are Queen fans. They like the newer stuff."

"It's just not as good. Would you play something?"

The boy shakes his head. "You mean now?"

"I don't mean tomorrow."

He walks over to the guitar, picks it up and goes back to the bed. He puts the strap around him and sits on the bed.

"I have to warn you. I'm not that good."

"I'm sure you're fine."

The boy reaches over to his night stand and grabs a pick. He strums it on the guitar, producing a 'twang'. He tunes the keys at the top of the instrument.

The sound from the guitar is much softer. He strums it slower. The girl looks at him with quiet awe.

"Wow. This is really nice."

He stops playing. "Really. You're not just saying that?"

"No. You are good."

The boy blushes a little. "Thanks."

"You ever consider playing in a public venue, like a talent show?"

"Nah. First, I'd need more practice, and second, what if they don't like me?"

She takes a breath. "A few years ago, my mom told me something, and I think it's gonna help you. 'You never know what you can do until you try it. People may not like it, but remember: the worst thing they can do is boo you. You'll still have your talent.'"

"That's pretty good. If I ever meet your mom, I need to thank her."

"Wait, if you meet my mom...?"

The young man rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I..."

"We've only just met." She chuckles nervously.

"I just thought..."

"I really liked that melody; it sounded like it was in 3/4 time."

"Actually, I...hey."

"What?"

The boy puts his guitar down and picks up the math book. He flips through it enthusiastically. "What page was that problem on?"

"163, I think."

"And how did we break it down?"

"Um, '9x 12y'. Why?"

"Well, three can go into both numbers."

A look of sudden realization hits her face. "...which would leave us with '3x 4y'."

"Now, both sides are supposed to be equal, right?"

"Yes."

"And there aren't a lot of numbers that will make them equal, so I figure that 'x' would equal four and 'y' would equal three. And both sides would equal twelve."

"That's right", the girl beams. "But how did you figure out...?"

"I don't know. Sometimes, it takes a while for me to work stuff out. They must've been tired of waiting, so I was given a tutor." He motions to her.

"Oh..." She looks away sadly.

He looks at her. "Hey, I might still need a tutor..." He takes her by the hand. "...and a friend."

A big grin develops on her face. She grabs him close and kisses him on the lips. The surprised expression on his face melts into one of desire.

After a few moments, they break away. He has a somewhat dopey look on his face. If this is what it's like to be kissed, he definitely wants more of it.

The girl looks out the window. "Oh, man. It's pretty dark out now." She grabs a math book and puts it in her backpack.

She heads for the bedroom door. She spins around, her ponytailed pink hair flying behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye, Cosmo."

He waves a bit. "Goodbye, Wanda." She walks out.

The lovebirds in the cage - one brown, the other black - poof out of the cage. They re-appear before the boy in a markedly different form. The brown bird becomes a brown-haired young man in pants and a shirt. The black bird is now a dark-haired young lady in a dress. They float in the air with wings on their backs and crowns sitting just above their heads. Wands materialize in their hands.

"Well, she's definitely not like the other girls", the female fairy states.

"Yeah, Tootie. This one actually seems nice. Much nicer than that Lizzie Lang." The male sticks his tongue out.

"Timmy...sure Lizzie's not that nice..." Cosmo counts the points on his finger. "...but she's beautiful and popular and rich."

"Oh, Cosmo, how long can those last?" Tootie is like a second mother to the young man, and her tone conveys that feeling.

Timmy flies next to his wife. "Good point, Tootie, but those can mean a lot to a teenager."

The dark-haired fairy waves her wand and Timmy's mouth is replaced with a closed zipper.

She floats next to Cosmo. "Sweetie, I hope you give the matter some thought. Wanda seems like a very sweet girl."

"Mmmh-mm-mmh-mmmh-mm-mmh?"

"What's that, honey?" Tootie poofs the zipper away.

"Will you be seeing her again?"

Cosmo looks up wistfully. "I'm sure I will." He picks up a neat textbook and laughs a little. "She left her book here."

The End

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A/N: This is the first of several FOP one- (and possibly two-) shots I'll be writing. Just a little way of burning off some of the ideas gathering in my head. This structure is borrowed from "Danny Phantom" author Danni-2005. Be sure to check her work out. This first story was something rolling around in my head. I don't think this has been done before and I'm quite proud of that.

Be sure to look for more and have a nice day.


	2. The Lion and the Mouse

**The Lion and the Mouse**

There are a number of people who, for some reason, go unnoticed. Some of them are cursed with poor vision and end up in need of glasses. Some of them are unable to ride the really big roller-coasters because of their height deficiency. Some of them feel like keeping to themselves and don't fuss over every little thing.

And then there's Valeria Montgomery - 'Valerie' to anyone who asks - who is lucky enough to fall into the category of 'all of the above'.

In addition to her five-foot-nothing frame, meek demeanor and wire-frame spectacles, she also has dark hair, a white T-shirt, faded blue jeans...and seconds to get to class.

She huddles her binder and textbooks to her undeveloped chest. As a sophomore, she is able to avoid the abuse that she suffered as a freshman. Like a lot of first-year high-schoolers, she was hassled by seniors. Her compact frame made her a constant occupant of trash cans and lockers.

There were a couple of occasions this semester where some upperclassmen would escort her to a waiting garbage receptacle...quickly followed by an explanation that she's no longer entitled to this treatment.

She maneuvers through the crowd of students. This was one reason for which she cherished her shortness. Valerie was never one for tardiness.

XxXxXxXxX

The cafeteria is a sure-fire breeding ground for...whatever. The students aren't much on eating the food, so gossiping and studying are among the main activities during lunch period.

Valerie sits at a table with some girls. More correctly, she sits at one end of a long table while a bunch of girls giggle and whisper at the other end. It's the only empty space left in the cafeteria. The brunette can never tell if they're talking about her or not. She steals a glance at the huddle of gossipers. Given their complete disinterest in her, it's definitely 'not'...at least, for today.

She opens a brown bag and pulls out a sandwich. The foil protecting it from the elements becomes a ball in Valerie's hands. She sinks her teeth into the meal.

"Egg salad."

Prepared the right way, an egg salad sandwich can seem like a feast from the heavens; a sandwich that the gods themselves may have created at some point in time.

Three tantalizing bites. This _is_ one of those heavenly ones. Bless you, mom.

She puts her sandwich down and peers out toward the other end of the cafeteria. A young man walks in. At first glance, he looks like any other guy at this school...but his red hair and distinct sneer allow him to stand out.

Valerie had heard about this guy: Victor - 'Vic' to anyone who asks - Flanagan, junior. He was forced into babysitting by his parents. In response to this, he became a terror to his charges. Little kids cringe at the very mention of his name. His fellow high-schoolers...just stare whenever he's around.

The sound of sighing interrupts Valerie. She looks over to the giggling girls who gaze longingly at the young man. Her confused look suggests that she can't understand what the fuss is about. Even with his reputation, Vic seems like a regular guy. They are most likely under the influence of his attitude. After all, girls love the bad boys.

Not Valerie, though. For one thing, she considers herself to possess high self-esteem, in spite of her meekness.

She returns to her sandwich, a snort from her nose.

'He's just some guy', she thinks to herself as she takes a bite.

XxXxXxXxX

Valerie hadn't thought much about Vic the rest of the day. Her homework was a much higher priority. In fact, clipping her toenails was a higher priority. She scoops up the remnants and tosses them into the wastebasket next to her bed.

She rises from her bed and looks at herself in the mirror. She checks herself for any blemishes. Strange that one would perform this task even when people don't notice her. People do the most unusual things out of habit. She looks down at her manicured feet. They look fine, even if, from her vantage point, she can only make out the front half of them.

Valerie crawls into her bed and sighs as she slips under the covers. Few things are more comfortable than a nice, warm bed. At the very least, she can sleep, secure in the knowledge that life, however mundane, will stay the same.

A glare of sunlight peeks through the window. This forces Valerie to open her eyes. That was a pleasant sleep. She rises slowly...something is different. She yawns a little as she slides her legs over the side of her bed. A brief feeling of vertigo hits her when her feet hit the floor.

She walks to her mirror. Her arms stretch out. As her arms fall to her sides, she feels something pulling at her. She glances down at her feet. There's nothing too unusual about them; she can make out her toes...and only her toes. She bends down further for a better view. Her hair falls over the front of her head.

She stands up, brushing the hair out of her face. Her eyes widen upon seeing herself in the mirror. The T-shirt she fell asleep in looks to be stretched out. She cups the mounds of flesh in front of her.

"Wow."

XxXxXxXxX

Valerie walks to her closet. It's full of old T-shirts, faded blue jeans (ah, the benefits of having two older sisters and parents who believe in the 'hand-me-down' style of clothes shopping) and a semi-new pair of sneakers. They don't come from her sisters, but the white shoes are dappled with spots of mud.

She pulls a pair of jeans off of a hanger and puts them on. She peers down. The cuffs extend to mid-calf. She bends over and tugs at the cuffs. A grunt escapes her lips. She certainly wasn't this tall yesterday.

XxXxXxXxX

A pair of her older sister's jeans weren't easy to come by. Valerie promised to do a week's laundry...which isn't too hard, as the two of them share a wardrobe. Their parents aren't too keen on wasting exorbitant amounts of money on clothes.

The girl walks through the crowd, her books to her chest. It's not as easy as yesterday, though; the compression of hard books against soft flesh is likely to cause bruising. Still, anything to avoid too much attention to herself. Valerie was a first-hand witness to the attention that well-endowed young women received to hormone-crazed young men.

XxXxXxXxX

Valerie takes a tentative bite of her sandwich. To her, ham and cheese isn't quite as fulfilling as egg salad, but it does the job.

A cluster of shadows forms over her. She looks up at the sources. They are a trio of boys, all with nervous looks on their faces. They look like the kind of guys more familiar with collectable figures than the figures of a woman.

A minute goes by. None of the visitors have spoken. Valerie glares at them. She puts down her sandwich.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Um, yeah. We were just...um, ah, we..."

And so articulate. As the young men continue to stammer, their collective gaze falls on the girl's chest. Valerie notices their eyes. She grabs her binder and covers up.

"This has been fun, but don't you have an elsewhere to be?"

The young men don't respond or move an inch. This is, more than likely, the most words that a girl has spoken to them.

She picks up her sandwich, blocking the boys from her field of vision.

XxXxXxXxX

To be followed on your way to...anywhere is unnerving enough. For someone not used to it, like Valerie, the fear factor goes off the charts.

Her books to her chest, she walks down the halls. She steals a glance behind her. One student drinks at the water fountain, another chats up a teacher and a small group of young men, part of which are the three oglers from lunch huddled in a conversation.

She turns around and continues her jaunt. Not a moment later, the guys allegedly engaged in other activities keep pace with her. Valerie has never minded the sound of rubber squeaking tile...until right now.

The girl has no idea what these guys will do to her if and when they catch her. She sweats a little as she upgrades her pace to a fast walk. The wolf pack is still on her. She turns a corner. Her fast walk is now a full-fledged run. She zooms by a much older man and a student outside a classroom, followed by her 'fan club'.

The older man shakes a finger at the crowd. "No running in the halls!"

'Was he kidding!', Valerie thinks as she continues to move.

The student being lectured by the man looks at the aspiring marathon runner. He runs a hand through his red hair and shakes his head.

XxXxXxXxX

Vic sits in a chair in the living room of his house. The comfort of the chair makes a nice contrast to the interrogation he is currently getting. He is, by now, used to being scolded by his parents. However, as always, he takes their yelling in stride. After all, stirring up a little trouble every now and then is fun. It's nice to be loved, but better to be feared.

"I can't believe this! You were sent to the principal's office four times this week...and it's only Tuesday!" Mr. Flanagan is hardly surprised by this turn of events, but his stern outbursts always make it sound like news, rather than history. But, then, a more docile approach wouldn't have much of an effect.

"Vic, why do you do this to us? Do you know how this hurts us?" Mrs. Flanagan is most likely the 'good cop' in the relationship.

"Mom, Dad. I do my best to stay out of trouble. It's just that trouble always finds me, even when I'm not doing anything wrong." He is on the verge of tears. This defense is quite well-rehearsed. He looks up at his parents, who converse.

He leans over, trying to get a better understanding of what the adults are saying.

They turn to face their son, who wears an atypical look of fresh-faced innocence.

Mrs. Flanagan steps forward. "We've decided to give you another chance."

"But I--what? Really?" He jumps from the chair and wraps his parents in a hug. "Thanks." He strides up the stairs confidently.

"Of course, if something else happens, there's always expulsion..."

"...juvenile hall..."

"...military school." Mr. Flanagan adds a taunting edge to these words.

The color drains from the teenager's face. He sinks to his knees, only a couple of steps away from the upstairs landing. In military school, you have to wake up at five in the morning for marching. He's more of a seven-oh-five kind of guy. The food in mess hall is swill, and he likes his food to be edible. Most distressing of all, they shave your head.

There aren't a lot of red-headed guys running around town, let alone the country, and Vic takes a lot of pride in his semi-uniqueness.

Vic picks himself up and trudges to his room, insecure in the knowledge that impulse must now play second fiddle to self-preservation.

XxXxXxXxX

There are people who loathe school and can't wait to get home. There are people who loathe having to go home and can't wait to go to school. And then, there are those who find their school situation and their home life equally unbearable. Following last night's scene, Vic is now a card-carrying member of the latter group.

He trudges down the halls, garnering disinterested stares from his fellow classmates. To the red-headed spitfire, one of the few things worse than getting in trouble was being forgotten. He just can't bear people not knowing who he is.

Vic turns a corner and gazes at a fire alarm. He eyes it contemplatively. Among his offenses: tardiness, running in the halls, littering, raising his voice to a teacher on three occasions (he had faced the same teacher twice) and pilferage of school supplies. Surprisingly, pulling the fire alarm has never crossed his mind.

The one-sided staring contest ends as the bell rings. Vic dashes off. That's one more instance of tardiness to worry about.

XxXxXxXxX

Valerie walks down the hall with a gentle smile on her face. Her 'fan club' is no longer behind her and, from the sigh she lets out after a quick glance, she's glad that the days of having one are.

She bumps into a hulking young man. The 'D' on his jacket more than likely makes him an athlete. The look on his face suggests, while not quite a great mind, that he is used to getting his way.

He looks down at her. "Hey."

"Oh, excuse me." Valerie tries to move beside him, but he blocks her path.

"What's your hurry?"

"I need to get to class."

The jock rubs the back of his head. "Yeah, I guess that's pretty important. So, what's your name?"

"Valerie." She has no desire to make friends with a guy like him, though she can't help but be polite.

"I'm Kirk. So, you wanna go do something after school, 'cause I was thinking that maybe we could grab a bite and, uh, get to know each other better. I can be a pretty good guy, really. Just ask my three ex-girlfriends." Valerie notices that his eyes are fixed on her chest. "They'll tell you...well, they might tell you some stuff about the dates we went on, but those are total lies..."

"I'm sorry, but I _really_ need to get going." She hurries off. The nerve of that guy! He hadn't paid attention to her when she was a short, flat-chested nobody...not that she would care for a guy like that in the first place.

She turns a corner and glances down at the end of the hall. Vic seems to be looking up at something. The bell rings, stopping her from finding out what it is...

Vic rushes off. Valerie walks down the hall, looking cautiously for fellow stragglers the whole way.

She stops at the item in question. It's a fire alarm. One pull on the lever would get the offender in serious trouble. These things are here to help save lives, not be used in childish pranks. Moreover, it would get the offender noticed...

XxXxXxXxX

The students are gathered in an auditorium, chattering away. An hour has passed since the school's evacuation. Strangely enough, the fire alarm had been pulled.

"May I have your attention?" A balding man on the stage speaks through a microphone. The noise from the students continues unabated. The elder man glares at the crowd. He whistles into the mike, which garners the students' attention.

"Thank you. Now, there is no way of knowing exactly who pulled the fire alarm today, but, in the spirit of fairness, I'm going to let the guilty party come forward." Vic eyes the man with great derision. 'Come forward'? Right, that's just what he is going to do; tighten the noose around his neck.

"Anyone? Does anyone want to confess?" The mixed responses are coughs and the occasional 'get bent!'.

A dainty hand cuts through the air. "Yes. It was me." Valerie stands to her feet, a nervous smile on her face. All eyes fix on the brunette.

Her look of happiness quickly changes to one that screams, 'You got a problem with that!'.

XxXxXxXxX

A number of students stand outside the principal's office and listen in on the conversation, a popular pastime for those with the free time.

_"Why did you do it?"_

_"Because it was there. Why else would I do it?"_ Valerie seems to really be playing up the 'bad girl' image.

_"You don't have any prior offenses. I cannot understand why someone such as yourself would do something like this."_

_"You have a lot to learn about this generation."_

_"Apparently." _The principal sounds appropriately flustered.

XxXxXxXxX

The school library is well-stocked with research materials and reading for the bored student with spare time.

Valerie sits at a table in the back of the library. The book in front of her is a world history textbook. As she turns a page, a shadow casts over her. She turns toward it.

"So...why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Valerie doesn't take her eyes away from her book.

"Don't play with me. I was there. Why did you do it? You shouldn't have done that."

Valerie frowns. "Look at me." She stands up and motions to her chest. "If you had boobs like these, wouldn't you want to be known for something else?" Her tone is hushed, yet angry.

"If it were me, I'd be worried about the boobs", he states dryly. "Do you know what confessing to something like that will do to you? Not that it's any of my business, but if I were in your shoes, I'd have found some other jerk to take the fall."

Valerie puts her hands on her hips. "And just how many 'other jerks' have taken falls for you?"

"I'm just talking hypothetically."

"Besides, pulling that fire alarm gave me such a...rush." She balls her hands into fists. "I've never felt anything like it."

He puts his hands up. "Calm down there, Ma Barker. So, what's the sentence?"

She eases back into her seat. "A call to my parents and a week of detention."

"That's not too bad." He sits in the chair across from her. "You could do that standing on your head."

"From what I understand, you already have...several times. You know, I don't think you're so bad."

"I beg your pardon?" Vic, briefly, expresses nervousness. People almost never call his bluff.

"You don't seem like such a bad guy."

"You must not have heard of me. I'm Vic." He raises his arms. "Scourge of children across Dimmsdale."

Valerie folds her arms. "I'm not a child. You can't scare me."

Vic's arms fall to his sides. "How 'bout if I yell?"

"In a library?"

"I would. Just give me a reason."

"You don't have a lot of friends, do you?"

"Are you kidding? I've got...no one." His bravado is now replaced with an emotion foreign to the young man: humility.

"Well, I don't really have any friends, either." Valerie shrugs her shoulders. "I don't know. Maybe we can help each other out." She smiles a bit.

"Yeah, maybe." He returns the gesture.

She extends her hand. "Valeria Montgomery, but I go by Valerie."

He takes her hand in his own. "Victor Flanagan, but everybody calls me 'Vic'...you know, if they're smart."

Valerie laughs. "Isn't it funny that we both had this study hall time in the library?"

"Actually, I'm supposed to be in chemistry class."

"You are a piece of work, you know that?"

"Hey, it's not like I'm gonna use that in real life..."

XxXxXxXxX

Valerie stands at a kitchen counter, chopping carrots with a knife. She wipes her brow with the carrot-holding hand and resumes the task. Her face shows the beginnings of wrinkles, but other than that, one could still see the young girl she used to be; like twenty years have melted away.

The sound of a key turning in a lock snaps the woman out of her reverie.

"Val, I'm home!" Through the door walks a man with a face full of stubble. His loosened tie and half-smile suggest that there's no place he'd rather be.

She wipes her hands with a towel. "Oh, honey, how was work?"

The man tosses off the briefcase and the tie - shackles of the workforce - and sits in a chair. "Same as ever. People come in, they look for help, I give it to them, rinse, repeat."

Val stands behind the chair and rubs his shoulders. "Vic, you're a good accountant."

"Being good at something you can barely tolerate is hardly what I'd call an accomplishment." Vic was always good with numbers and stumbled into accounting a few years after finishing college...about the same time that his friendship with Val became something more. Though the pay was good, good enough to make a comfortable living, it wasn't something he was particularly fond of.

"It's still being good at something, and that's pretty impressive." For many years, Val was there with a kind word.

"Val..." He stands to face her.

"No buts."

He shrugs. "I didn't say 'but'."

"You were about to."

He shakes his head slightly and kisses her on the cheek. "Did I ever tell you how glad I was that you pulled the fire alarm?"

"Hmmm...not that I can recall."

"I really ought to someday." He looks down at her enlarged stomach and gives it a pat.

"Mommy!" A high voice emanates from the second floor. A redheaded girl with a bow in her hair rushes down the stairs. She joins in the hug.

"What is it, Vicky?"

"Um..." One thing that people notice about the five-year-old girl is her directness. "How long 'til I have a little brother or sister?"

"Well, I'm about four or five months along, so it'll be another four-and-a-half months."

"Oh, I can't wait that long", the girl pouts.

"Don't worry, sweetie. The time will go by like that."

Vic watches as his wife walks back to the kitchen and stares at her a bit. Hearing her calming voice, he remembers why he befriended her...and why they later married. In a way, she saved his life and showed him a better way to live it.

"Dinner will be ready in a bit, dear."

He couldn't have it any other way.

The End


	3. Just One Night

**Just One Night**

The door of Timmy's bedroom slams open. There is a scowl on his face as he stomps his way to his bed. He throws his coat against a chair. Loose change spills out of the pockets on impact.

The young man lies on his bed and stares at the ceiling. He exhales deeply. In his seventeen years of life, he cannot recall a time where he was more angry.

The sound of faint sobbing interrupts his anger. He turns to the source: his fish bowl. His fairy godparents, Cosmo and Wanda, have been with him for quite some time. It is a rare thing these days that Timmy would wish for something. He soon came to regard them less as his fairies and more like real friends.

He gets up from his bed and walks toward the bowl. "Wanda...are you okay?"

The only response is more sobbing. It's a wonder that any sound can come from the water at all.

Timmy lightly taps the glass. A pink-eyed goldfish swims from behind the toy castle. Sadly, she looks up at the boy. With a poof, she disappears from the bowl and reappears before him in her fairy form. She wipes a tear from her eyes.

He reaches up to her. "Wanda...what's wrong?"

"Cosmo and I..." She chokes up a little.

He lowers his hand. "What? You and Cosmo..."

"We got into an argument."

"Come on. The two of you have arguments all the time. Isn't that a part of marriage?" In spite of his youth, Timmy seems to have a handle on relationships.

"Yes, but those are just little things, like being too close or losing something." The pink-haired fairy poofs up a box of tissues. She takes two of them and blows her nose.

"So what was it about?"

"Cosmo thought that I didn't love him." Timmy goes to his bed and sits down. He looks up at the fairy. "He said that, after all these years, I was getting tired of him and that I deserve better. I told him that I loved him, but he just kept at it: 'Why are you stuck with a dunce like me? Why don't you go for someone more ambitious?' I got angry, then he got angry and we started yelling and he stormed out. It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that I started missing him."

Timmy shakes his head. "I can't believe that."

"It does seem pretty silly, huh?"

"Yeah. I mean, you two have been through so much together. I can't imagine you two not loving each other."

Wanda starts to tear up once more. "I do love him. I just don't know if he loves me."

"I know he does. To be with you for this long, there has to be something still there."

The fairy floats in front of Timmy's face, a warm smile tugging at her lips. "Oh, thank you, Timmy." She wraps her arms around his midsection and hugs him.

Taken aback, he strokes her hair a little. Granted, Wanda has always been protective of her godchild, but she was never this...affectionate.

"Are you feeling better?"

Wanda dries her eyes with another poofed-up tissue. "Much, thank you. Now, what's going on with you?"

The boy gives her a surprised look. "What do you mean?"

"I heard the change, Timmy. Nobody spills that much by accident, or because they're celebrating."

A deep sigh. "Do I have to?"

"I shared with you, sweetie. It's your turn." That lilting tone of hers can always work wonders. Wanda floats beside him as he slumps down.

"I was on a date with Tootie. We were eating at a nice restaurant. Things are going good...then the bill comes. I want to pay it, but she insists on paying. It turns into this huge blow-up about chivalry and manners. A guy can't do anything nice, anymore."

"Timmy, maybe you should've let her pay."

"You know, that doesn't sound like 'You're absolutely right.'."

"It's good if you want to pay, but there are times when you should let the woman pay. She won't feel weak and helpless."

The young man straightens his posture. "I guess I can understand, but...why does she have to be so stubborn?"

"Sounds like someone I know." Wanda giggles a little.

Timmy notices that she's looking at him. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

The fairy clears her throat. "You know, that doesn't sound like 'You're absolutely right.'." Timmy grimaces at Wanda's perfect vocal imitation of him. "Need I go on?"

"But I...you're right, Wanda. I _do_ feel the need to be right. I _have_ to be right. I'm in my last year of high school. I'll have to go to college. All this stuff is coming down on me. Being right assures me that I'm in control of my life."

"Then you probably shouldn't take it out on Tootie."

"I know." He reaches over the bed for his phone. "I should call her."

Quick as a flash, Wanda blocks Timmy from the phone. "Trust me. She needs some time to calm down. Maybe tomorrow."

"That's a good idea." He stands up and takes off his shirt. He lunges it at the coat on the chair.

The fairy's eyes widen. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna hit the sack. I'm a little tired."

Wanda flies to Timmy. "What about me?"

"Well, I figured you can stay in the bowl."

"Timmy...!" Her hands find her mouth. Wanda looks even more surprised than her charge at her panicked outburst. "Please...I don't want to be alone."

"Wanda..."

"Can't we just...talk some more?" Timmy looks at his fairy with great empathy. In all the years he's known Wanda, he saw her as the den mother; the protector. The one who would stay strong when things go astray. Before his eyes, there is now a lost woman in need of her husband. One might even think that having Cosmo for support gives her the strength to keep her head in the midst of chaos.

He sighs deeply and offers a slight smile. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I...well, I..." Wanda doesn't seem much prepared for this; a part of her figured that Timmy would ignore her and continue on to bed. "I've been around for nearly 10,000 years. I've granted a lot of wishes for a lot of kids. It's just that...I've never had a wish of my own."

"A wish of your own?"

"Fairies are just like everyone else. They have their own wishes that they want to come true. We can't ever grant them because we're bound to servitude."

"That sounds horrible. But what if...?" Timmy looks into Wanda's eyes.

"What?"

"I wish you could have your wish come true."

Wanda gasps as she floats into the center of the room. She is enveloped in a shroud of light, hiding all except her vibrant pink eyes. Timmy shields his eyes from the brightness with his arm. The shapeless mass of light shrinks until it forms a perfect outline of Wanda's body. Her feet seem to arch up and sprout high heels. Her midsection stretches downward, forming the outline of a dress. Her swirly bouffant explodes, the strands flowing toward her back.

The light dissipates and a woman floats to the ground. However, this does not at all resemble any woman Timmy has known. The woman wears a yellow sundress, a pair of black high heels and hosiery that makes her long legs appear darker. The most unusual element of this stranger, though, has to be her pink hair, which flows down the small of her back.

Having witnessed the whole thing (and, even still, is unable to believe it), Timmy closes his mouth and approaches the mystery woman.

"Wanda, is that you?"

"Of course it is. Who else would I...be?" Her voice is now softer, like that of a young woman. She looks down at herself. She feels her legs, her stomach and her backside. "Oh, my goodness." She rushes past Timmy to the full-length mirror on his closet door. "It's really me."

"This was your wish? To be human?"

"It's kind of a 'Cinderella' deal, only it lasts the whole night." A few tears fall from her face. She wraps Timmy in a big hug. "And you made it happen. Thank you so much."

"Um...you're welcome?"

Wanda lets him go and walks around the room, like an excited child. "I've always wondered what it was like: to taste ice cream, to see the moon, to feel...to feel!" Timmy tries to keep pace with her.

"But you could always do that stuff."

She grabs his hands. "As a fairy, not as a human. I want to experience things like you experience them." She walks to the door. "Let's go."

"Go? Wait!" He takes off after her. "I still have a curfew: 11:00pm. It's 10:30." He takes her by the hand.

"Then we better move quickly." She grabs his arm and tugs him.

"Wanda! There's lots of stuff we can do around here."

"Like what?"

XxXxXxXxX

Wanda sits anxiously at the kitchen table. Timmy reaches into the freezer. He pulls out a box of banana split ice cream and sets it down before her.

The young man closes the door and takes two spoons from the drawer. He hands one to Wanda and sits across from her.

He opens the container. "My parents got this for a party, but I can always buy more."

The temporary human digs her spoon into the substance, coming away with a scoop that includes the three flavors of strawberry, chocolate and banana. She sticks it in her mouth and swallows it. A shiver emanates from her lips.

"You shouldn't try to eat so much. Just take it a little at a time." Timmy digs into a spoonful of banana and allows it in his mouth.

Wanda goes for a smaller scoop of chocolate and strawberry and savors the combination of flavors. "This is really good."

"So..." A spoonful of chocolate for the gentleman. "...did you ever used to do this with Cosmo?"

"Often, but it never felt as calming as it does now." She gazes at him as she takes another bit of strawberry.

"Maybe this is something you should do with him, you know? Just relax with some ice cream. You two deserve a break."

She sighs and shakes her head a little as she reaches for the banana section.

XxXxXxXxX

Wanda sits beside Timmy on his bed, staring out of the window. "The moon looks so nice from here." She moves closer to him. "So...romantic."

"Yeah. I guess I never thought of it like that." Typical males; on completely different wavelengths. "One time, I was out with Tootie and she told me that she thought that the moon could bring couples together."

The woman groans. "And what did you say?"

"I didn't say anything. I just laughed. For a while. I don't know why she puts up with me."

Wanda slowly inches her hand toward his. "Maybe you need to pay attention to her. You need to figure out what she wants, when she wants it." Before she can caress his palm, he puts his hand to his chin.

"That's not a bad idea." Before she can wrap her arms around him, Timmy stands up, leaving Wanda lying on his bed. "Are you all right?"

"Dandy." Timmy walks around his bed.

"Oh, man, I can't wait to see Tootie again. I just know that things will work out." Wanda sits up and slouches.

She takes a deep breath. "For years, I'd seen you grow up. Chase after the wrong kinds of girls, smarten up, enter high school. Whenever I saw you with Trixie, and she would get splashed with water or slip on something...that was me." Wanda's voice is heavy with remorse and a bit of relief. "I knew she'd never love you for you. She wants you for what you can give her. That's a horrible basis for a relationship!" It is this rise in her voice that gets the young man's attention. "A while later, you were talking to Tootie and decided to give her a chance. As I saw you two dating, it dawned on me: I wasn't just keeping Trixie away to protect you. I kept her away because...I was jealous. I know that fairies can't interfere with true love, but that's not to say I didn't try."

Timmy steps back toward his bed. "Like that time we were in the park and it started pouring rain? That was you?" He remembers a day after school when he and Tootie went for a walk, unaware that storm clouds gathered 'unexpectedly'. They waited out the storm under a tree...and suffered from the flu for days after.

Wanda nods nervously. "You were...are so handsome, not to mention sweet. Any girl would be lucky to have you." She gets up from the bed and rushes toward Timmy, grabbing his shoulders and holding him close. The woman nudges her head in the crook of his neck. "I love you, Timmy."

The surprised boy gawks at the woman in front of him. She certainly is kind-hearted and beautiful...but only moments before, she was his fairy godmother...and part of that is 'mother'. Wanda was like a second mother to him, and the seventeen-year-old is appalled at the thought of a relationship involving him and a mother. She's not his birth mother, but she may as well be. What's more, there is a girl not a few blocks from where he stands; a dark-haired girl whose eyes always sparkle even behind a pair of glasses. A girl as smart as she is funny...and she can be very funny. A girl whose kindness is sometimes trumped by her stubbornness, but this is the sign of a strong-willed person who knows what she wants and will do what she can to get it.

Timmy's rushing train-of-thought is interrupted by a lingering kiss. Wanda's pouting lips meet his slightly-chapped ones. She grabs onto him like a life preserver in the midst of the ocean.

"I love _you_, Toot..." He murmurs in her ear.

Wanda breaks away, a grand smile on her face. "Oh, Timmy." She heads in for another kiss, but she is stopped suddenly...by a pair of fingers.

"No." He shakes his head. "I love Tootie. I can understand your pain, Wanda, but this will never change." She turns her back to him and cries a little. "I'm not going to say anything cheap like 'We can still be friends'. What I will say is this..." He turns her around. She won't look at him, but her cups her chin with his hand. "...I'm sorry, and please don't hate me for this. Cosmo still loves you. We'll always be a family." The woman looks into the boy's bright blue eyes.

Timmy takes Wanda in a big, smothering hug. She cries into his shoulder. As per the rules of Fairy World, this family will, sooner or later, have to be broken up, but, at this moment, nothing can destroy the relationship between a fairy and her godchild.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: There is something of a history to this. First, there were a couple of comments made on a picture at deviant art by Elera. The picture is of Timmy surrounded by a number of hotties...and Cindy Vortex. The comments concerned Timmy/Wanda and were to the effect of 'It's nice that no one writes that pairing anymore' and 'Guess again'. Then, I saw the two stories at the site and figured, 'why not?'. This is my entry into the (however temporary) T/W sweepstakes.

Thanks for reading and have a nice day.


	4. Sister, Sister

**Sister, Sister**

"Now, are you sure you'll be alright?" A brown-haired young man stands over a bed. The fear in his voice is all too present.

"I'll be just fine." The voice of the young woman in the bed is calm, if a little strained.

"Really?" He leans in closer. "Are you comfortable enough? I could get more pillows if--"

"Tim, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself." Given her expanded stomach, the phrase 'big girl' seems like an understatement.

The young man brushes some loose strands of raven hair from the woman's face. He gives her a smile. "I just want to make sure you're fine."

The woman plants her palms on the mattress and, as best as she can, lifts herself against the backboard. "I'm as fine as ever. Now, you go to work." She shoos him away. "Someone's got to keep us in the black."

Tim exhales and rushes out of the bedroom door. The woman pouts a little. The young man re-appears in the doorway, a bemused look on his face. He hurries to her side and kisses her on the lips. "I love you, Virginia." He rubs her stomach and, once again, leaves out the door.

"I love _you_, Tim." Virginia tugs a little at her sweater. For the last few months, she has really been out of it. Cravings like Italian sausage and marshmallow fluff and occasional bouts of sickness have been the routine. It wasn't a year ago that her father walked her down the aisle and gave her away to the man of her dreams - Tim(my) Turner. It was more like a year and a half.

Throughout college, Tim worked to save enough so that he and Virginia would be able to afford their own place once school was over. The apartment had always seemed a little big for just the two of them...one more reason why they wanted children.

Virginia looks at her stomach. From her vantage point, it looks like a basketball wrapped in wool. "Oh. Why do you mock me so?" She puts a hand on it and feels a bump. "Oooh. Well, you're a spirited one, aren't you?" Her palm caresses the area where she was kicked. "Ahhh!" Another bump from the other end. "You sure do move fast." At that moment, two simultaneous bumps strike her stomach. "Ow! Oh!"

A look of utter shock fills her face. "Oh, my God." She insisted to Tim that they not get an ultra sound; when her baby is born, she wants its gender to be a surprise. However, neither she nor her husband considered the possibility of...

"Twins." The young woman struggles to get up, but can only make it onto her knees. She closes her eyes and wraps her arms around her stomach.

Keeping this from Tim is going to make for an interesting three months.

XxXxXxXxX

The apartment has changed greatly in the last year. The room where a lot of their old stuff had been was converted into a nursery, leaving the many odds and ends stranded in various rooms. One of these days, they need to go through the boxes and figure out what stays. More than likely, a good portion of it will need to go.

Virginia is crouched down by the playpen. A baby girl sleeps. Next to her, a baby boy does the same. The dark-haired woman cherishes these times...these quiet times. As much as she and her husband love their children, they can be real noisemakers.

She reaches into the pen and scoops up the little ones. A knock at the door interrupts the peaceful moment.

Virginia walks to the door. She peers through the peephole. With a sigh, she moves the little girl to her right arm on which her brother rests. She turns and removes the locks and latches.

The door opens. The woman who walks inside looks to be in her early 30s. A smile dresses her face, but her close-cropped red hair and business attire alerts that she is not a woman with whom people trifle.

"Hi, little sister!" There is extra sugar in the woman's tone, just like when she was a girl.

"Hello, Vicky." ...and Virginia sees right through the act. She shifts the little girl to her free arm and kicks the door closed.

The redhead notices the little bundles in Virginia's arms. She gives a little wave. "Hello. Hello, there."

The younger woman turns suddenly, blocking Vicky's view. "The twins are sleeping."

"Okay. Okay. I can wait." She strolls past her sister.

"Wait? Are you staying here?"

"I came to see my niece and nephew and that's what I'm gonna do."

"You've seen them." Virginia jerks her head toward the door. "Now leave."

Vicky puts her hands up. "Hey, I come in peace. What's with the attitude?"

The dark-haired woman stumbles a little at this. She approaches her sister, her furor steadily growing. "What's with the...? I can't believe you... I did not just hear that. You've spent years making children miserable. You're not gonna add my kids to that list."

"Virginia...that's in my past. A long time ago, I was a surly teenager. We all go through a phase like that."

The woman walks her babies toward their bedroom. "I don't think that's a good excuse."

"But I--"

"Not reason. Excuse."

A tear falls from Vicky's face, but she steels herself. "Okay. I guess I deserve that."

The younger woman stops but does not turn around. "And much more."

"Yeah", she states with a fair amount of resignation.

Virginia continues to the bedroom. "I'm sure you know the way out."

The redhead takes a breath. "I was almost hit by a bus." This statement gains the mother's attention. She starts toward the living room.

"I was about to cross the street. The parking at work, you know..." Vicky sits on the couch. "I guess I wasn't paying attention to the lights. I took a couple of steps off the curb. I felt a hand yank me onto the sidewalk. All I wanted to do was go home. Just as I started to yell at the guy, I felt this 'whoosh' behind me." Virginia, her children in her arms, sits next to her sister. "I was so pi..." The older woman remembers the children near her. "...ticked off at the guy, I didn't notice anything else. A couple minutes later, I finish yelling and the guy hugs me." She laughs a little. "The guy pulled me out of the way moments before becoming a stain on the number 33 and I just yelled at him."

"Wow."

"Yeah." A half-smile is on the businesswoman's face. "That was about two months ago."

"And why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

"I didn't know how to tell you." Vicky mimes a telephone with her hand and talks into it. "'Hey, sis. How's it hangin'? By the way, I was almost hit by a bus after work.' Something like that doesn't exactly reek of sincerity. That experience taught me something."

"Look both ways before crossing the street."

A scowl develops on the redhead's face, and almost as quickly as it appears, it melts away. "Yes. That and that life is fragile; not something to be wasted. I've been wasting my life. I can't remember the last time I was truly happy."

"But there were so many times when you were younger..."

"Making others miserable doesn't count. That was like such a drug; fun while you're doing it, but it leaves you empty inside. That's why I want to make amends to you."

"Really, why are you doing this? Is Dad dying?"

"No. No, he's not."

Virginia gasps. "Is Mom dying?"

"No one's dying. I just feel that this is something I need to do."

"Are _you_ dying?"

"No one's...!" She lowers her tone so as not to disturb the children. "No one is dying. I promise you."

"And you haven't told me about this in two months?"

"Like I said, I didn't know how to tell you." Vicky glances at the children held by her sister. "Your arms must be tired. Let me hold one of them." Virginia hands her the dark-haired baby boy. "Ohhh." She looks down at the sleeping child and rocks him a little. "What's his name?"

"Oh. I forgot you weren't there that night." She holds up the little girl. "This is Violet, and the little guy you're holding is Thomas."

"Little Thomas and Violet." Her cooing tone shifts to as accusatory one. "You couldn't have named her after me?"

"That's just what we need: another Vicky screaming at us."

"Ha-ha." The redhead resumes rocking the child.

Virginia shakes her head a little. "I'd have never figured you for the maternal type."

"That's 'cause they're too small to manhandle at this age." Vicky meets her sister's fierce gaze. "Kid-ding!"

Virginia's expression softens. "Wait. Shouldn't you be at work?"

"Took a personal day. Those guys will survive without me. They managed to do pretty well before I got there. So, tell me something."

Virginia rocks the baby girl in her arm. "What?"

"What's it like?"

"What's what like?"

"Married life. Kids. The whole thing."

The dark-haired woman stops rocking. "Well...I don't know, Vicky. It doesn't seem like it would suit you very much."

"Please." This greatly stuns the younger woman. She had never known her older sister to use the magic word, even by accident. Still, her gently curious phrasing is enough to encourage the dark-haired lady.

"Okay." She takes a breath. "It can be loud, pretty mundane and a little annoying, all at once. But knowing that you've chosen the right person to jump in with and knowing that they'll be there for you, no matter what, makes it worthwhile."

Vicky gazes at her quizzically.

"You asked."

"I know it's been your dream for, like, ever, but why Timmy?"

"It's Tim, and he makes me happy, he takes care of me and he loves me. I'm only glad you kept quiet during the 'if there's anyone who thinks this couple should not be joined' bit of the wedding."

"I had something in my throat."

Virginia gives her sister a skeptical look. "I know you did."

"I really did. Besides, that's the best wedding present a person could possibly give to their sister." Vicky punctuates the statement with a playful smile.

"I guess it beats a toaster." Virginia starts to laugh a little. Vicky soon joins her. Even though they realize the cheesiness of the joke, their laughter seems like a sort of bonding.

Virginia glances at her sister intently. "Vicky?"

"What is it?"

"Why didn't we ever do this when we were younger?"

"I don't know. We probably wouldn't have ended up at this point. We could've been nicer to each other...Well, I could've been nicer to you, but, after a while, we end up getting sick of each other and around this time in our lives, we'd only see each other during the holidays. And even then, we couldn't even be in the same room."

"You know, I'm glad we ended up like this."

Vicky outstretches her arm and places it on her sister's shoulder. "I am too, Virginia. I am too."

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A/N: Once more, a piece of fan art has inspired me to write a story. The piece, in general, can be found at http/ www. deviant art. com/ view/ 22428087/ (minus the spaces, of course). Like the wonderful artist, I like to think that I watch the show and imagine what it _can_ be instead of regurgitating what it is.

Have a nice day.


	5. Tainted Love

**Tainted Love**

Every day for three weeks, she studied his routine. She knew the details of his life better than he did. After a while, though, even she had to admit that he needed a change. And she was just the woman to give it to him.

A waiter serves her a piece of cheesecake on a plate and walks away. She sticks her fork into the slice and comes away with the front of the piece.

"Mmmmm!"

Her reaction to the pastry borders on orgasmic. The other people on the patio of the cafe stare at the woman. As if she really cares what they think about her. All that matters is what she has in store.

She sinks the utensil into the slice and devours the chunk, savoring it. A few pleasing bites later, she is finished. A smile on her pretty face, she skips into the restaurant like a little girl.

XxXxXxXxX

"Oh, you are going to love this." A low chuckle.

The woman has always been open to trying new things. She hums a melody as she walks down the street. In her dainty hand is a box tied up with string. Her eyes fix on a green car at the end of the block. As much as she enjoyed what the restaurant had to offer, its success was such that parking became a nightmare. She considered herself lucky to make it within a block of the place.

She glances at the digital parking meter. Eight minutes to spare, which was lucky for her. Her last quarter had gone into the device.

The box hits the passenger seat and she eases behind the wheel. She turns on the ignition and the vehicle peels away from the curb.

XxXxXxXxX

A brown-haired man makes his way down the street. His boyish looks strongly offset the fact that he's pushing thirty. He ruffles through his pocket and pulls out his car keys.

"Hey, there."

The man turns around and sees a pair of teenage girls. They smile at him and eye him flirtatiously. He gives a slight wave and continues walking. On the one hand, he was surprised and annoyed that, for once, high school girls were making advances on him, but he's now too old to do anything about it.

On the other hand, why would he settle for immature girls when he has a woman waiting for him at home? He approaches his car and gets in.

XxXxXxXxX

Over the years, the woman had wanted things a certain way, and was not above employing a few tricks to get it. She smiles at what her life has become. Granted, it could've turned out a little better, but close to perfect was a good option for her.

The car turns a corner and heads down a street lined with houses, each one more identical than the last. Suburbia. She runs a hand through her lustrous dark hair as the car slows down.

XxXxXxXxX

The woman makes her way through the house, the stringed box in hand. She slowly ascends the stairs, the creaking of each step threatening to give her away. Her main objective: make sure that no one else was here. She wants to give him what he needs with as few distractions as possible.

At the top of the stairs, she turns a heel and walks down the hallway. There were times when she didn't like being by herself. Not just for the feeling of someone's big strong arms wrapped around her, but because she was afraid of being alone. The idea of solitude frightens her like little else.

XxXxXxXxX

This must be the bedroom, as if the king-size bed wasn't enough of a guess. The woman catches a glimpse of herself in the full-length mirror on the door of the closet. She can certainly turn a head or two with her looks. It's been this way for many a year.

She opens the closet. Her hands flip through the clothing. They land on a terry cloth robe. The woman slowly unbuttons her blouse, letting it drift to the floor. She bends over and pulls down her skirt. Her hands on her hips, she shoots herself a coquettish look, as if to say, "You want this? I'm gonna make you work for it and work hard".

She slips one arm into the sleeve of the robe, followed by the other. The feel of the material against her soft skin inspires a deep, satisfied moan.

XxXxXxXxX

A car pulls into the driveway of the house. The engine turns off and out of the vehicle steps the brown-haired man. He looks up at the house and breathes a sigh of relief. He is, no doubt, glad to be home.

XxXxXxXxX

The sound of a key turning in a lock snaps the woman out of her voguing. She closes the robe, which manages to reveal a significant amount of cleavage. The woman hurries down the stairs.

The door opens and the sight greeting the man stops him in his tracks.

"Hello, there." The woman makes no attempt to hide her flirtation.

"What are you doing here?"

She pouts. "Waiting for you, of course."

"But you can't be here. My wife will be home soon."

The woman approaches the man. "Well, what she doesn't know won't hurt her." She grabs the back of his neck and forces his head to meet with hers. They kiss, she trying much harder than he. She jumps up and wraps her legs around his midsection. The two of them spin around a little, he awkwardly trying to make his way to the living room. After a minute, she lets him go.

They fall onto the couch, panting for breath.

"Whoa."

"Now, was that so bad?"

The man shrugs as best as he can. "No. Not really."

"Could your wife do that?"

"Well...she's had some practice."

"Bet you she couldn't do it half as well."

He exhales deeply. "My wife can do things you couldn't imagine."

"Like what?"

"Keep a house spotless, cook an amazing dinner, help raise children..."

"Oh, come on." Some of her strength returned, the woman grabs onto the man's collar and jumps on him, causing him to fall back. "Given the time, I could do that."

"But without the heart."

She lets go and stalks off. "Whatever."

The man straightens up and clears his throat. His hand wipes his brow. He looks over and sees the woman leaning against the railing of the stairs.

"Tell me something, Tim."

"What is it?"

"How come, whenever we play these games, you always have to talk them to death?" She unfolds her arms and puts them on her hips.

Tim gets up and circles his arms around her waist. "Virginia, it's like I told you: I fell in love with one woman, I'm married to one woman, and I'll die joined to one woman." He kisses her ear.

"Tim..."

"Honey..."

"You're the one who wanted us to keep the spice in our marriage so we don't end up insulting each other like on television. The least you could do is get into it."

"But I do get into it! Not like you, though. I mean, talk about method acting. Are you sure you don't have prior experience at this kind of thing?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

He turns her around and kisses her. They had come a long way since childhood, when she would shower affection on him, but he would rebuff her constantly.

She breaks away the kiss. "I bought some cheesecake. It's in the fridge. We can eat it afterwards."

"'Afterwards' what?"

"The kids are at the movies and they won't be back for hours." She gives him a quick peck on the cheek and heads up the stairs, her figure swaying back and forth. Tim knows what that means.

He rushes to catch up with her. "That sounds great. I think I'd now like to play 'Cheerleader's Punishment'."

"Well, aren't we daring today? Making up for lost time?"

"Only with you." Tim gives her behind a gentle squeeze and sprints toward the bedroom. A hungry look in her eyes, she hurries after him.

The sounds of giggling fill the air as the door slams.


	6. Temps Rising

**Temps Rising**

An office is typically filled with books on shelves, educational degrees and plants...usually fake, as not to attract insects. This one is no different.

A gray-haired man sits at a desk, looking over a sheet of paper. "A bachelor's degree from USC, three years as a customer service representative...I must say that this is an impressive resume."

"Thank you, sir." The dark-haired woman adjusts the hem of her skirt.

"And I've heard things about you from previous employers."

"All positive, I trust?" The woman laughs a little. The man joins her.

He wipes a tear from his eye. "Indeed. I think that you'll do very well here, Miss Flanagan." The man stands up and extends his hand.

At the same time, she returns the gesture. "I hope so, Mr. Ross." She grabs her jacket from the back of the chair and disappears behind the door.

The older man shakes his head. "Damn. Why are the younger ones so cute?"

XxXxXxXxX

Virginia Flanagan was looking forward to working again. It's always the time in between jobs that is a hassle for people like her. In the almost nine years since graduating college, she tried several types of work, but found that she was at her best in an office environment.

She passes through the lobby of the building and gets to the elevator. She presses the 'up' button which glows green. 'That has to be a good sign', she thinks to herself.

The light illuminates the different floors: '4', '3', '2'... "Finally", it gets to 'G'. Ding!

The door opens and Virginia steps on. Already in the car is a brown-haired young man. He seems to be smiling, as if he just finished hearing a really funny joke.

"Could you hit '6' for me, please?"

"Um, you could hit it yourself." The door closes.

"But you're closer to the buttons." Agitation creeps into Virginia's voice.

"But I'm not going to '6'."

"Jesus...!" With a groan, she reaches over and pushes the '6' button.

The car moves up. The two stand looking off to the side. He brings his hand to his mouth and coughs.

"So..."

"Yes, this is my first day." This was obviously a conversation that Virginia has had several times before.

"Wow." The man is quite surprised by her answer. "Are you psychic?"

"No. I'm a temp."

He nods his head. "Oh. What department are you working in?"

"I'm not sure, yet. First day and all."

"Right." The elevator dings once more, bringing a blessed halt to the awkwardness of the conversation.

The door opens and Virginia walks out. The young man is clearly dumbstruck. Just as the elevator car closes, he reaches out his hand. "Bye!"

A faint "Idiot!" can be heard as the car sinks to the lower levels.

XxXxXxXxX

Virginia stands in front of the copy machine at the end of the hall. There was a glitch in the device that caused a big black mark to pollute the center of every third page. Even so, most of its copies are clear.

"Hello, again."

She looks behind her. It's the same guy from the elevator.

"Oh. Hello."

"Yeah. How are things?"

"Fine."

He rubs the back of his neck. "You know, I never gave you my name."

"What a coincidence. I never asked for it."

The man laughs nervously. "That...that's really funny. I'm Tim. And you are?"

"...unable to get my work done as jerks hit on me."

"Oh." Tim walks away, finally getting a hint. He stops and turns around. "Has there been anyone else?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Have there been any other guys to hit on you today, or am I the only one?"

She clutches the papers in her hands. "Surprisingly, you are the only one."

"But you're so pretty."

"And you, I'm sure, are in violation of at least a couple of rules, not the least of which is sexual harassment." Virginia is a woman who knows the ins and outs of office work. "I'm sure your co-workers are well-aware of these measures." She raises an eyebrow in triumph.

Tim puts his hands up. "All right. All right. I understand." He walks away. "See you later."

The dark-haired woman groans, dissolving her smirk.

XxXxXxXxX

The office cafeteria is, more often than not, a place to get a good meal. With the plate of salisbury steak, mashed potatoes and peas, Virginia aims to find out for herself.

The woman sits down at an empty table. She picks up her fork and knife and cuts a piece from the meat. The piece slowly makes its way to her mouth...

"Hey, there." She slams the utensils down and glares at the source of the voice, whose tone is undeservedly upbeat.

"_You_."

"I prefer Tim."

"What do I have to do, file a restraining order?"

"All you have to do is stop taking 'hard-to-get' to such extremes. I just want to be friendly."

"First, try impossible. Second...you're trying too hard. You might get hurt."

"'Might' or 'will'?"

"Your choice." She picks up the fork and puts the steak in her mouth.

"How benevolent." He looks at her tray. "Ooh, steak."

"You can always get your own."

"I know." His gaze fixes on her. She, however, is more interested in completing her meal.

He walks away. "Nice talking to you."

Virginia takes a breath. "Not really." She resumes eating.

XxXxXxXxX

Several workers sit in cubicles so as not to be distracted from their work. After all, there's no sense in having the potential for excitement intrude on boredom.

Virginia sits in her little box, pounding away on the keyboard. The higher-ups managed to place her in a secretarial position, which includes some typing.

The phone rings. She picks it up. "Hello?"

"Greetings." It's that man again.

The brunette rubs her temples. "How did you get this number?"

"Took a shot in the dark."

"Just out of curiosity, do you do any actual work around here?"

"Data entry. Nothing but typing. Pretty sweet deal."

"I'm hanging up now. Never call me again."

Her hand moves the receiver away. _"No! Please..."_ She brings it back.

"What is it?"

"I..."

"What!"

He exhales. _"I know I try too hard. It's just that...I don't have any real friends. I'm really a good guy, but I've always had a problem making friends."_

"Hmmm. I'd have guessed differently from the elevator this morning."

"I was trying to have some fun. It was stupid of me." Virginia's expression softens. _"I'm sorry."_

Virginia's expression softens. 

"Really?"

"Yes, I am. Do you think we could, I don't know, talk after work? Maybe you could get to know me better."

She sets the receiver down. On the one hand, he might not be so bad. On the other, Virginia can indulge this guy and, hopefully, get him off her back.

Virginia picks up the receiver. "Fine. Meet me in the lobby after work."

"Wonderful! Thank you."

She hangs up the phone and goes back to typing, all the while thinking, 'What the hell have I done?'

XxXxXxXxX

Virginia sits in the lobby. She looks around as the people around her walk past. She sighs deeply. Why in the world did she agree to this?

"Excuse me." The brunette looks in front of her.

"Oh. It's you." The venom that filled her voice earlier in the day is gone. Perhaps it's because of the fact that the day is over.

"Yes. It's me, Tim." He extends his hand.

She takes a breath and returns the gesture. "I'm Virginia." He pulls her to her feet. "So, what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Maybe go for a walk?"

"Yeah. That sounds nice."

XxXxXxXxX

Over the last hour, Virginia walked with Tim, surprised that, for one thing, he could be so charming and kind, and that he had no friends. He also told a couple of truly funny jokes. She embarrassed herself laughing so hard at the last one. In fact, she had such a good time with him that she forgot about her car. It was still in the lot.

They, naturally, rushed to get back to it.

Tim stands next to the vehicle. "Did you have fun?"

"To be honest, I actually did. You're not such a bad guy." She turns the key in the ignition.

"Thanks, I guess. Well, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodbye." The vehicle peels out of the lot and into traffic.

Tim watches the car disappear down the road. "I think I'm in love."

XxXxXxXxX

The apartment is a modestly-designed place, just the way its occupants like it. The sound of a key turning in a lock alerts the figure on the couch. The door of the apartment opens.

"I'm home!"

The figure looks over the back of the couch. It is a pretty young woman with hair as dark as that of the entrant. "Oh. How was your first day?"

"Interesting. I met this guy."

"A guy?" The woman gets up, the tone in her voice more angry than teasing.

"Yeah. A little obnoxious but not so bad...once you get to know him."

"So he's not so bad?"

Virginia takes her jacket off. "Not really. Somehow, I think he's attracted to me."

"Do you think he'd be open to a three-way?" The woman slowly circles the temp.

"He's a guy, Trixie. Of course he'd be."

From behind her, Trixie wraps her arms around Virginia's waist. "But he's gonna have to work for it. No one knows you like I know you." Trixie leans over and gives the woman a soft peck on the cheek. She is understandably protective of the working girl, as befits an unconventional relationship that has lasted for over a year.

Virginia reaches her hand back and caresses her roommate. "I know."


	7. Off the Record

Disclaimer: "The Fairly Oddparents" is owned by Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon. Like I could give a fraction of a crap about this disclaimer stuff.

**Off the Record**

The lights go up in a studio, revealing a well-dressed young man sitting in a swivel chair.

He spins to face the audience, a smile on his face. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to 'PrimeLine'. I'm Rory Bathin. In our next segment, we'll be talking to a couple who have suffered their share of...well, hardships over the years, but none more so than recently."

The chair turns toward a monitor. "Let's say hello to Victor and Valerie Flanagan."

"Hello." The two of them wave. Valerie is a mildly attractive brunette, while Victor is ruggedly handsome, his red hair doing nothing to offset that fact. A legend at the bottom of their monitor introduces them.

"Now, you have two daughters, yes?"

"Yes, we do." The two of them sound proud as they answer together.

"And it is the presentation of the older one that is mainly the problem."

"Actually, it's a variety of things, but yes, that's a big part. We feel that our family has been misrepresented by the series, 'The Fairly Oddparents'. To look at it, you'd think that the two of us were nothing more than ciphers who cowered in fear of our daughter. That's just not true."

Victor leans forward for effect. "In fact, Rory, we feel just...humiliated by this."

"It's been quite hard for us; the whispering behind our backs, the--"

The anger in Victor's voice is apparent. "To think that we could be shown like that; like a pair of spineless, impotent--!"

"Honey!" Valerie grabs her husband's arm.

The man settles back into his seat. "I'm sorry, but they had no right to do that."

"And, what's more, the show hasn't been all that civil in presenting your daughter?"

"Yes. I...I'm really not sure how this came about. Sure, Vicky's always been a handful, but she was never, _never_ that nasty."

"Why do you think the show chose to portray her in that way?"

Valerie sighs. "To me, it seems that they felt it would be easier to show her like that."

"More like lazier, if you ask me."

"Now, I've done some research, and I've learned that you were approached some time ago to be represented on another show. What was that about?"

"Well, we were asked to be the basis for the parents in a show that was never produced. It was called..." Valerie turns to her husband. "What was the name of it?"

"I forget. It was kind of like 'Family Guy', but it was more plot-driven. There was some kind of shake-up at the network, and it got shelved."

"And that's too bad, honey. It sounded really good."

"Victor, it's funny that you mention 'Family Guy', because I've heard similar statements about the young woman who was the basis for Meg..."

Valerie speaks up. "Oh, yes. Margaret. We've talked."

"What about?"

"Well, she's pursuing a defamation of character lawsuit. That's really all I can tell you."

"Now, it's been roughly two years since you were introduced on the show."

Valerie nods slightly. "Yes."

"And you're incensed about your presentation?"

"I think that's pretty clear", Victor states, irritation creeping into his voice.

"So...why come out about it now?"

Victor takes a breath. "Rory, we have two daughters. Sooner or later, they'll be going to college. The...checks we've been receiving...they're quite substantial."

"We're not very proud of this."

"So you're angry about how the show presents you, but you have no problem with taking their money. Is that about right?"

The red-haired man stands up. "Hey! If we'd known about some kind of ambush, we'd have never agree to this interview." Valerie tugs at his arm, hoping to calm him.

Rory tugs at his collar. "I'm sorry."

"Just get your facts straight." Victor sits down.

Valerie clears her throat.

"And do you know about the stories?"

"Stories?"

"On the internet?

Victor groans. "Oh, God. The stories." He sinks in his chair.

"We've run across a few of them, Rory. There are some talented writers out there. I can't imagine why they would just parrot what the show alleges us to be instead of taking a different tack. Maybe if they knew the real us, they wouldn't be so quick to assume."

"Good point. Still, Valerie, it's a popular view."

"That which is popular isn't always right."

Rory is unsure how to react to that deep statement.

The woman adjusts her glasses. "Philosophy major."

"Impressive."

Victor takes her hand. "That's why I married her", he beams.

"Getting back to your daughters, your youngest is portrayed as...shall we say, a hyper ball of energy?"

"Virginia can be that way sometimes, but it was - big surprise - blown out of proportion. Around the time we were approached, she had a crush on this boy in her class. She couldn't control herself around him. Unfortunately, his family moved away a year later. She got over it and focused on school. She tells me that no one was quite like him."

"She's only like that now on her birthday and Christmas." Victor laughs a bit.

"While the show was airing, you pretty much couldn't say anything about the production staff. You met them, but couldn't say anything. Now that the show has ceased production, what do you have to say?"

"Some of them were focused; really cared about the craft of animation, but for a lot of them, it was all about the money."

"They've done better things in the past."

Valerie turns to her husband. "And how about our, shall we say, designs on the show?" Victor rolls his eyes.

"I've seen better character designs in a Filmation cartoon."

Rory laughs at the statement. "That is putting it lightly."

"Yes, I guess you're right."

"I'd just like to thank Mr. and Mrs. Flanagan for taking time out of their schedules to talk with us."

"Thank you, Rory."

"Thank you."

"Is there anything you have planned for the future?"

"We just want to get back to our lives."

"And we're mulling a lawsuit for defamation of character."

"Honey..."

"Val, it's not a bad idea."

"I just want to put this behind us."

Victor exhales. "Fine. For you." She always did have a way with his heart.

The brunette kisses her husband on the lips. Their monitor shuts off.

Rory spins back to face the audience. "We'll be right back with our next segment: why coupling in cartoons can cause cancer..."

XxXxXxXxX

A finger stabs the 'off' button on a remote control. The television screen goes blank.

"Huh." The finger belongs to Timmy Turner. "I had no idea." He lets his remote-holding hand fall to his side.

"You see? I told you." Wanda floats in front of him, an assured look on her face.

"I guess I know what this means."

Cosmo appears beside his wife. "Not to believe everything you see on television?"

"No. It...wai...actually...yeah. I guess it does."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: Now, I make a lot of statements in my stories. This is one of those on which I am the most firm. I've nothing more to say than this: so the show tells you how they believe Vicky's parents are. If the show told you to drink battery acid, would you?

Thanks for reading.


	8. Alternative Lifestyle

**Alternative Lifestyle**

"You're going out with WHO!"

Once was fine. Twice was understandable. Even three times seemed a reasonable amount, but for Timmy Turner, seven was right out.

He glared at the individual in question: some weaselly freshman who managed to be tuned into certain branches of the Dimmsdale High grapevine.

Timmy advances on the height-challenged student. "Yes, you little troll. I'm going out with Trixie Tang. Want me to sing it for you?" The brown-haired boy was never one for confrontation, but, as far as he was concerned, the sheer volume of incredulous responses to his good fortune was enough to drive him past the edge.

He takes off down the hall, hoping to shake off memories of people's disbelief. On the one hand, was it so hard to believe that an ordinary (well, as ordinary as a teenager with fairy godparents can get) but not-unattractive young man could land a dish like Trixie? On the other hand, the junior knew the answer all too well.

His mind goes back to that fateful day, when his life changed. It feels like it was only yesterday. In fact, it was.

XxXxXxXxX

"Hey, you!" The tone of the voice was quite flirtatious. Timmy looked around the school grounds. All he could see was Trixie, waving him over. There's no way she could be talking about…

"You! Timmy Turner!"

His eyes goggled. She almost never got his name right.

"Come on!" The sweetness in her voice now included a hint of annoyance, as if to say, 'I don't have all day'.

He wastes no time in going to her. "Uh, hi, Trixie. Wh--?"

His question never had a chance. Her hands firmly grasping his arms, she pulls his face to hers, jamming her tongue down his throat. After a minute, she pulls away.

He takes a breath. "W-wow."

Trixie grabs his arm and runs toward a long car pulling up.

"Where are we going, Trixie?"

"To my house, of course." The dark-haired girl punctuates this with a girlish giggle.

A well-dressed chauffeur - whose name she never really took the time to remember - opens the door for the two of them. Once they settle in, he shuts the door and hurries to the driver's side of the car.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy runs his hands along the soft velour of the seats. 'Man, how many fancy chairs did they cut up for these?', he thought.

As nice as the seats felt and as fancy as the air was (sort of a perpetual new-car smell that he has to inhale a good portion of), he couldn't help but stare at the girl in the seat across from him.

"Trixie, not that I'm not grateful for this, but…why am I here?"

The girl pushes down on a button. The window separating the front seat from the back rolls up. She walks over to his side and sits next to him.

"You've always liked me, right?"

The boy's first impulse was to ask her, 'Is this a trick question?' "As far as I can remember, yeah."

"Good." She stares ahead in anger. "For some reason, my parents have this fascination with seeing me with a guy from a rich family." Her attention focuses back to Timmy. "But you…you're nice and middle class, right?"

He shrugs a little. "Upper middle class, yeah."

"Same difference." She grabs his hands. "I need you, Timmy. Just to get them off my back, would you please be my boyfriend?"

"So, let's see if I've got this straight: you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend because you don't want to date some other rich guy?"

Put like that, one would think that Trixie might have second thoughts about this. However, one thing is clear about her: when she wants something, she's getting it. No questions asked. "Yes, that's right."

A smile forms on Timmy's face. "Are you kidding? Sure!"

"How wonderful!" She gives him a hug.

The chauffeur turns toward the back of the vehicle. "We're home, Miss."

"Oh, thank you, um…uh…" She waves her hand, trying to think.

"Farley, Miss."

"Geez! Thank you! It's not like I'd have gotten it eventually or anything."

Farley shrugs off the girl's sarcastic tone and pulls onto the property.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy walks down the halls of the school. The young man was of two minds about his current situation. He had pursued Trixie quite frequently in his (even) younger days, only to be met with, in this order, condescension, rejection and humiliation. And now, she comes out as says that she wants to date him for the sole purpose of ticking off her folks.

Then again, this is Trixie Tang! Her attitude may not have changed much over the years, but that's the only thing about her that hasn't, and to most guys, it couldn't matter less. Besides, he thought to himself, if you won the lottery, you'd be pretty stupid to want to give it back.

Timmy checks his watch. The digital readout states 11:46am. Must be time for lunch.

XxXxXxXxX

The cafeteria, where students find (or, at the very least hope for) nutritious meals. Moreover, it serves as a place where friends can converse without fear of detention or passing notes.

His tray in hand, Timmy looks for a place to sit. Given the law of averages, there's usually one empty table. He spies one near a window and heads toward it. It _is_ a nice day, after all.

"Timmy!"

His attention is drawn toward the dark-haired girl calling out to him.

"Over here!"

Trixie sits at a table with a few other popular students. Some things never change. Timmy grabs a seat from a nearby table and scoots it between his new girlfriend and another girl who, given her fine attire, was something of a fashion maven.

"Hi, Timmy. This is…everyone."

The most that any of the students can offer is an indifferent grunt. Timmy wasn't sure if they were pre-occupied with other matters or if they were just being rude.

"We were just talking about what we were gonna do next week. Of course, there's my cotillion that I have to be ready for." Trixie grabs Timmy's arm and snuggles "And, of course, you'll be by my side, won't you?"

"Sure, Trixie."

At that moment, a girl with dark hair passes by the table. She stares at the scene unfolding at the table. She hated that the boy she loved was with…her. In her mind, Timmy Turner belonged with her and no one else. For years, she dreamt of herself on his arm in high school, sweethearts in college and, ultimately, Mrs. Timothy Turner.

The girl drops her books and rushes toward the bathroom, tears streaming down her face.

XxXxXxXxX

Another hand full of water splashes on the girl's face. She wipes away the liquid and looks in the mirror. Her usually pretty eyes are now quite bloodshot. Eight solid minutes of crying will do that to you.

Veronica thought to herself, 'How could this happen?'.

Well, for one thing, she never really told Timmy how she felt. Also, she had been friends with Trixie for a long time. When the turn of freshman year came along, it dawned on her that she was just Trixie's ditzy friend; she hardly had her own identity. She tried to get a new one, which became a new one each year. Freshman year saw the geek look, which quickly soured the long-time friendship. Sophomore year had the former blonde trying her hand at class clown, but the propensity toward blonde jokes wore thin. This year's model is Goth.

She runs a hand through her long dark hair. That she knew of, there were no blonde Goths, and this would help her shed the 'dumb blonde' label she's carried for so long.

A determined look appears on her face. Veronica isn't going to let this get her down. Such is, more or less, the Goth way.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy sits outside the school on the steps. A shadow casts over him. He turns around.

"Is this seat taken?" It's Tootie, now a reasonably attractive young woman.

"Not really." The bespectacled girl sits next to Timmy on the uppermost step.

"What are you doing out here, Timmy?"

"Study hall. You?"

"Bathroom break." Tootie holds up her hall pass. "So, I've heard you were going out with Trixie."

He nods. "That's the story."

"Good for you." She takes a breath. "I'm just sorry that _we_ never got a chance, you know? But, really, why her, huh? She's very…high-maintenance, you know?"

"I'm willing to deal with that."

"You wouldn't have had to do all that much for me. Your happiness means everything to me." It broke her heart to leave him alone, but Tootie had decided four years ago to do it.

"I'm sure it does, but this is my choice."

"Still, are you sure that you didn't have some help with this?"

Timmy eyes her strangely. "What are you talking about?"

"A lot of people wish on falling stars. I figure that you might have something a little more…tangible." The young man faces Tootie, whose expression is a curious one.

"I don't think I follow."

The girl shakes her head and leans into him, whispering in his ear. Timmy's eyes widen.

"How long have you known?"

"A while. Back in grade school, I remember Crocker ranting about fairies and he was always following you for some reason. I'm surprised that no one else was able to put two and two together."

The young man gulps. An overly dramatic gesture, but not an inappropriate one. "Tootie, please. I'm getting to the point where I'll lose them eventually, but I want to spend as much time as I can. I'll break up with Trixie. I'll…"

"What part of 'your happiness means everything to me' did you not understand? I won't tell a soul."

Timmy wraps her in a big hug. "Thank you so much!" With a blush, Tootie returns the hug.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy and Trixie spent the next few days together. He wasn't too used to being driven around - at least, not since before his driver's license - but he quickly adjusted to the limo taking him to school.

One thing that Trixie enjoyed was talking, mainly about herself. Having Timmy around was the best thing to happen to her. For once, she could talk without having someone try to talk over her.

The two of them even tried to get into the things that the other liked.

"Okay. I don't get this, Timmy."

The young man turns from the plasma screen TV toward the girl next to him on the couch. "What's not to get? The coyote is trying to catch the roadrunner."

"But it seems pointless. After the first few tries, you think he'd get the hint. And what's with that Acme company he keeps ordering from? The stuff he orders is defective."

"Well, yeah, but he's incompetent. That's part of the fun."

"Then can't he order some food from them?"

It was clear to the boy that Trixie had not grown up with these cartoons as he had and discovering them now has only allowed her more mature, somewhat cynical side exposure to them. Although, he had to admit, her observations are quite insightful. She was a good deal smarter than the self-involvement let on.

XxXxXxXxX

"Come on, Timmy, we've only got a few stores left."

Timmy strains under having to carry so much bags. "You said that six stores ago."

"Were you really keeping track of that? Damn. Well, I guess we can rest."

Before Trixie even finished her statement, Timmy collapsed on a nearby bench. Accompanying the girl on a shopping spree wouldn't have been quite so bad had he known - really known - how carried away she could get. Granted, the excursion for new underwear was one he wouldn't mind repeating, but this was a bit much.

"Trixie?" Having gotten his breath back, the young man sits up.

She turns around. "What is it?"

"Well…not that the last few days haven't been fun. It's just that…I had kind of dreamed about this; you and me, together. But it doesn't seem…no. It's not right that I'm just being used."

"But my parents…"

"I get mad at my parents from time to time, too, but I don't go finding girls outside my reach and rubbing their faces in it. I don't think I can do this, anymore."

Trixie seems to be on the verge of crying, but she steels herself. "So, you think that I'm just this spoiled girl that thinks the world owes her everything? I may have been that way in the past and, in some ways, I still am, but I am a person. A person with feelings and emotions. In all the years I've gone to school, everyone has treated me with respect, not because they actually liked me, but because of what I had. I envy you, Timmy. You've got friends that like you for who you are. I'd kill to have friends like that. I thought we were having a great time together. It may seem like I'm just using you, but I do…I do…"

"What?"

"I do care for you, Timmy!" The boy is surprised to hear the words, but not as much as the speaker.

Timmy hangs his head. "I'm sorry, Trixie."

She moves a few bags out of the way and sits down next to him. "That's all right. I just had to let it out. I put up with this rich girl crap because of my parents. I just want to be me."

"I can understand. Any chance we can get something to eat?"

"Good idea. You'll need your strength for the rest of the trip." She taps his nose and takes a few of the bags in hand.

XxXxXxXxX

The night of the cotillion saw a number of privileged teenagers enjoying themselves. Timmy practically camped out at the refreshment tray. He had never seem so much fancy finger food. As he samples a finger sandwich, he feels a slight tug at his sleeve.

"Timmy."

He turns around. "What is it?"

"Don't I look lovely in this dress?" It is a pastel pink number that reaches low enough to show off her cute matching heels.

He swallows the item. "Very lovely."

She looks around. Her happy mood darkens upon glancing across from her.

"Oh, no."

Timmy pours himself some punch. "What's wrong?"

"It's the guy my parents tried to set me up with."

The young man does a near-perfect spit take. "Remy Buxaplenty!"

"You know him?"

Timmy hesitates a little. He can't tell Trixie about the…escapade that happened involving them and their respective fairies. "I know _of_ him."

The rich boy spies the couple. Putting on a fake smile, he approaches them.

"Trixie, how nice to see you. And just who is this?"

"Timmy Turner. I believe we've met."

Remy squints slightly. "Turner? I didn't recognize you without the pink hat." There's a certain condescending edge to his words. Same old Remy. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm Trixie's date."

"Oh. How…nice for the both of you."

Remy turns and walks away. Timmy looks to his companion. "Are you all right, Trixie?"

"I'll be fine."

XxXxXxXxX

As the night wore on, though, Trixie grew uncomfortable under Remy's glares. This did not go unnoticed by Timmy. He encouraged her to ignore the rich boy. After all, she was here to have fun.

"…who does she think she is to reject me!" Remy was standing with a few other monied upstarts. "And she's here with Turner? Talk about the bottom of the barrel." The small crowd began to laugh. Timmy walks from the bathroom.

"Turner!" The brown-haired boy stops at hearing his name.

"What do you want, Remy? There are crab cakes out there not being eaten."

"Just to talk. That Trixie sure is something, but I'm sure you already knew that."

"Um…yeah." This conversation is starting to annoy Timmy.

"A nice piece of tail; I imagine you did something special for her."

"What are you getting at?"

"Are you really that naïve? That's the only reason she chose you over me: she wants it and she doesn't care where she gets it." Timmy balls his hands into tight fists. "She wanted to get it in a white trash heap. Don't know why--"

Remy's statement never got a chance to be finished. Timmy draws his fist back to his side, drops of blood falling from it.

The rich boy falls to the floor. His compatriots carry him off.

Timmy walks to the main hall, passing Trixie. "Timmy, what's the matter?"

"You guys saw it, right?" Remy holds his nose up. "He attacked me."

Timmy turns and psyches him out, eliciting a flinch. "You weren't even worth that punch." He continues toward the exit.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy continues down the front steps. Trixie stands in the doorway. "Timmy!"

He turns around. She runs to him.

"Please. What happened?"

"Remy was talking shit about you; implied that you were easy."

"And you punched him out for it?" Trixie is on the verge of hysteria.

"He had it coming."

The dark-haired girl's expression softens. "That is the sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me."

She places her hand around his neck and gently pulls him to her lips. He puts his hands behind her back. After a minute, they break away.


	9. Red Dragon

**Red Dragon**

For Timmy, the living room of Tootie's house was a familiar place. It was where her parents chatted him up about school and what he was up to with their daughter while she prepared for their dates. As affable as they were, they made him a little nervous, like they'd assume the worst of him.

His intentions were nothing if not honorable, so he had little, if anything to worry about. Even so, he breathed a sigh of relief that the two of them were on a date of their own.

The boy sits on the couch and folds his hands. True to Mr. and Mrs. Flanagan's feelings, he wasn't allowed to have his own key to the house. Usually, they'd let him in, but since Tootie was getting ready, that only left…

"Hey, there, dumbass." Vicky, who has since graduated from 'twerp', walked around to face Timmy. "I still can't believe you and my sister are dating."

"And I can't believe that you're even here."

"Hey, I didn't ask for my apartment to be infested with vermin." For all the boy knew, she probably did. The redhead walks over to the fridge and opens it. "Besides, it's nice to be back home."

Timmy gets up and walks to the foot of the stairs. "Tootie, are you almost ready?"

XxXxXxXxX

"In a few minutes, sweetie. Give me time." The dark-haired girl sits in front of her vanity mirror. She was as surprised as Timmy that she took so long to get ready. She was never so concerned about her looks before…that is until she discovered that she had them.

Tootie runs a brush through her long locks. She puts the brush down and gives her head a shake, tossing her hair this way and that.

She stands up and steps into a pair of sandals. She walks over to her full-length mirror and poses. "Not bad, but I could use a different blouse."

XxXxXxXxX

The brown-haired boy is back on the couch. He spots a magazine on the coffee table in front of him. He picks it up and flips through it.

"'Top Ten Signs Your Man is Unwilling to Commit'. Who actually reads this crap?" He tosses the publication back onto the table.

"Oh, you found my latest 'Cosmo'." Vicky picks up the discarded magazine. Timmy couldn't help but smirk to himself. He wondered how Cosmo and Wanda were doing. He had long felt that they needed some time to themselves, so he wished that, for tonight, they couldn't keep their hands off each other. A sign was poofed onto the fishbowl before he left: If the water in here's a-swishing, don't go a-wishing. Another smirk dresses the boy's face.

"What the hell are you smiling about?" Timmy is shaken out of his trance.

"Oh, nothing. Just…thinking."

Vicky turns away from Timmy, a big smile on her face. "You know, I can't figure it out."

"Figure what out?"

"What you see in my sister."

"What don't I see in her? She's sweet, funny, pretty, kind…"

"It's just the two of us, Tim. You can be honest."

"I _am_ being honest. I just wish I had figured this stuff out sooner."

The girl puts a hand to her chest. "And what was so wrong with me?"

"You hated me. You wanted to hurt me on several occasions. You got me into trouble with my parents."

Vicky waves her hand. "Oh, everything sounds bad when you put it like that."

Timmy rolls his eyes and stares at the ceiling.

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie holds two different hangers, one with a dark blue blouse and the other with a dark red blouse. She holds the blue one two her chest.

"Now, this one says 'I'm having a nice time'." She switches to the red one. "But this one says 'Make me squeal'." She switches between them. "'Nice time', 'squealing'. 'Nice time', 'squealing'."

She tosses the red one onto her bed and takes the blue blouse off the hanger.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy checks his watch. It reads 6:43pm. An anxious breath escapes his lips. He glances over and sees Vicky's green shirt sitting on the arm of the couch. He cocks an eyebrow at the garment.

"It's just a shirt. It won't hurt you."

The young man turns toward Vicky's voice. He rears back at her. She carries a basket of clothes, but Timmy's attention is drawn to the fact that she's wearing a bra. The redhead notices his reaction.

"What? You've never seen a bra before? If you haven't, then you're not very good at this whole dating thing."

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

Vicky shrugs. "Laundry day." She opens the door to the basement and walks down the steps.

Timmy shakes his head. "I hope Tootie gets down here soon." A rumble from his stomach gets his attention.

He gets up and goes to the fridge. Upon opening it… "Hmmm. Juice, milk, raisins--Ewww!"

XxXxXxXxX

Tootie twirls around, her black skirt sailing with her. "Now this is nice." She checks herself out in the mirror. She is wearing a white blouse with a dark blue vest. "I can't believe I'm ready." She walks toward the door. Her toe bumps against the night table. She cries out.

"I knew I forgot something…shoes." The brunette grumbles as she stomps to her closet. Things were so much simpler when she didn't have a boyfriend for whom to look nice.

XxXxXxXxX

The boy walks back to the couch and sits down. There was nothing in the receptacle that interested him.

At that moment, the basement door opened. Vicky walked out, only wearing a bra and panties. "So, how long have the two of you been dating?"

"About six months--" The boy noticed his former babysitter's further state of undress. He snaps his head as far as it will go in the other direction. "What is _with_ you?"

"Laundry day", she states, cutting him off. It hardly seems an issue to her. "Besides, it's still my damn house." She slowly walks to behind the couch. "So, you were saying?"

"Anyway, we got to talking about stuff. She never got over me. I guess I was at the right age where I could find that appealing."

"That's our family's persistence for you." She rests her butt on the back of the couch…right near Timmy's head.

"Yeah." He lays his head back. He puts his head up and reaches back to fluff the 'pillow'. Vicky purrs like a kitten. Timmy lays back once again. He shifts his head around, eliciting further sounds of contentment.

He looks up. The redhead smiles down at him. "Hey."

Timmy jumps from his seat, rubbing her essence from his head. "Why are you doing this crap?"

She giggles a bit. It sounded strange coming from her. "Just giving you a little mystery. Why do women do things like this to men? Who knows?"

He sits back down on the couch. "Whatever."

"I'm just trying to prepare you for the real world. Dog eat dog, little fish in a big tank, stuff like that…" Vicky was so focused on her speech, she failed to notice the chair in front of her. The young woman trips over the chair. She hit the floor and groaned loudly. The redhead wasn't one for screaming.

"Vicky, are you okay?"

She glares at him. "Obviously not." She grabs her shin and groans again.

"I'll get some ice."

"Please hurry." Timmy stares at her. He never figured his former babysitter as someone to use the magic word. He hurries toward the fridge.

He looks on top of the fridge. A container of sandwich baggies. Just what he needed. He opens the freezer and grabs an ice cube tray. He empties the contents into a baggie and dumps the tray in the sink.

He turns back toward the living room.

"And just what took you so long?" Timmy noticed a number of unusual things about this moment in time. For one, Vicky, who had been writhing in pain on the floor, was now sitting on the couch, her arms outstretched. Second, she had a smile on her face that seemed to say, 'You look good enough to eat'. Third, and most importantly, was that her bra was no longer on her chest.

Timmy dropped the ice in shock.

"And those jerks in the school drama club said I wasn't a good actress."

He puts his hands up. "Wait. Your leg's not really hurt?"

Vicky stands up. "It must be your looks." A laugh at Timmy's expense. "My sister can't be attracted to your brain." She glances toward the stairs. "She's more like me than she knows."

Timmy runs to the stairs. Vicky cuts him off. She advances toward him, but he backs away. The two of them continue all the way to the couch. He falls backward. She leans on him, every bit the spider toying with the fly.

"Guys are funny. All through high school, no one would even give me the time of day. Then, I get these." She motions to her impressive breasts. "Suddenly, guys who know of me, but never said anything, are knocking themselves out to talk to me."

"Tootie…!"

Vicky clamps her hand on Timmy's mouth. "Hey, three-part harmony may be _your_ trip, but I'm more of a one-on-one kind of girl."

"_I'll be right down!"_

The redhead grunts at the announcement. "Damn." She focuses on the boy. "Better make this fast." Her face moves closer to his. Timmy can't help but grimace.

Vicky plants a kiss on his lips, which are pursed very tightly. She kisses him all over his face. However, he refuses to enjoy it. She narrows her eyes and reaches down.

Timmy yells out, a very sensitive part of him having been greatly bruised. The girl takes advantage of his open mouth and jams her tongue inside. His moans of protest slowly become moans of mild tolerance.

A door slams upstairs. Another grunt from the flame-haired aggressor. "Remember…" She extends her index finger and runs it along his chest. "…this is our little secret." She taps his nose.

Grabbing her bra, she rushes toward the basement door. As she disappears behind it, Tootie walks down the stairs. "So, are we ready to go?"

Timmy doesn't move an inch.

The girl reaches her hand out to Timmy's shoulder. "Are we ready--"

The boy jumps and yells out.

Tootie rears back. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Are you all right?"

A glance to the basement door. He looks into her eyes. His lips find their way to hers. He puts his hand on her neck, deepening the kiss. Moments later, they break away.

"Wow! Maybe I should scare you more often. Shall we?"

"Definitely." The teenagers step out the door. Timmy shuts it behind him.

XxXxXxXxX

Timmy pulls his car in front of Tootie's house. He could not have been more glad to obtain a driver's license, that first step toward independence.

"Timmy, is something wrong?"

He snaps his head toward his girlfriend. "No. Why would anything be wrong?

"It's just that you seemed pretty…distracted during our date."

The boy tenses up. He takes a breath. "Vicky tried to seduce me."

Tootie cocks an eyebrow. "Is _that_ all?"

"Is that all? She all but ripped my clothes off."

"You didn't enjoy it, did you?"

Timmy turns toward the brunette. "Can I be honest with you?"

"I'll settle for some white lies."

"Vicky…she is…attractive, but I didn't enjoy it. She forced herself on me. How _could_ I enjoy it?"

Tootie folds her arms. "Of all the childish things…!"

"I'm sorry, Tootie. Next time, we'll meet at my house. We won't have to…"

"Not you. Her. A couple of years ago, she accused me of stealing $50 from her. I kept trying to tell her that she lent it to me. I can't believe how low she'd stoop."

"Well, since I'm one of those lows, I can't fault her too much, I guess."

"See, that's what I'd call pushing your luck."

Timmy slouches a bit. "Sorry."

Tootie's 'shame on you' expression melts into an 'I can't stay mad at you' smile. "Come here, you ridiculous boy." She hugs him and he returns the gesture.

They break away. "I feel much better now."

"Now, I just need to get Vicky to apologize."

"She'll never do it."

"I know that, so I'll have to prepare for plan B."

"Which is…?"

"Remember when we were going through the stuff in the attic and there was this one hand-me-down from Vicky?"

"I think I do. The skirt so short, you need two hairstyles to wear it."

"Exactly. She doesn't go back to her apartment for a week, and she has a date in a couple of days."

Timmy's eyes widen to discs. "Sounds like a plan. Just be careful."

"I've met this guy. He's a pussycat."

"I mean be careful of Vicky."

Tootie kisses Timmy on his lips. "Aren't I always?" She opens the car door and sashays toward her home. Staring at the way her hips swayed, the boy couldn't help but think that the plan would succeed.


	10. Allergic Reactions

**Allergic Reactions**

The young man sat in front of his laptop, as he had done for many months. He was a writer by trade and, like many writers, he was working very hard on finding something - anything - to distract him from what he was supposed to be working on.

He raked his hand through his brown hair before moving the cursor to the internet link. A new page developed on the screen.

The young man started to giggle. As he let what he was seeing sink in, the giggling evolving into chuckling and then, full-on boisterous laughter.

"Hey. What's up?", inquired a lovely brunette as she entered through the front door, letters in hand.

"Well, I just read on a message board that heard from a Facebook post that came from a link on Twitter that originated on a Wikipedia page…"

"So you know it's trustworthy", the woman snarked.

"…that they're making a 'Fairly Oddparents' movie."

The young woman shrugged her shoulders. "So what? They put those out once every few years, each one worse than the last."

"But this one's in live-action."

The brunette fell into a chair. "Seriously?"

"Yeah. Apparently, they cast it, they're shooting it."

"Sounds like Nickelodeon wants a piece of that sweet 'Ben 10' movie money."

"Who knows?"

The brunette pulled up a chair, forcing the young man to scoot over. She read the announcement for herself. Confusion crossed her face. "Who the heck is Daniella Monet?"

"One of the stars of 'VicTORIous'."

"Vic-whah?"

"You've never seen it?"

"I gave up on Nickelodeon when they stopped airing 'Ned's Declassified'."

The young woman commandeered the keyboard and typed 'Daniella Monet' into a search engine. She clicked on the 'images' link. A sneer developed on her face. "She doesn't look anything like me!"

He shrugged his shoulders. "What? She's not bad looking."

"That's beside the point!"

"Well, Miss big-shot casting director, who would _you_ cast?"

The woman again typed on the keyboard. Her companion gazed in mild shock at the dark-haired woman in the pictures.

"Okay, she looks a lot like you."

"That's what I said when I saw her in that movie, _Sex Drive_."

"That's a better choice than the guy they got for me."

"Sure, because you're _nothing_ like Drake Bell."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Can you blame me?"

"Yeah. It was bad enough when you dragged me to see _Superhero Movie_-"

"I dragged you? You're the one who wanted to go!"

The young man couldn't respond to that; it was so long ago, he was hoping that she had a short memory and could catch the heat for that movie choice.

"Okay, but still…they could've done better."

The woman had a feeling about what was coming. "Like who?"

He typed on the keyboard, revealing a series of pictures that sent the woman into a giggle fit.

"You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah…"

"But Pacey on 'Dawson's Creek'?"

"Hey, when the show was on, that's just how I imagined I'd turn out."

Not wanting to get into an argument that would likely carry long after the storm of the movie had passed, the young man scanned down at some of the comments.

"'Would've been better if it was animated'."

"Probably."

"No, I was reading the comments. Oh, here's a good one: 'it's going to be _Last Airbender_ all over again!'."

"Are people still beating _that_ horse?"

"It's the internet. Of course, they are. 'It's a bad idea!'."

The woman folded her arms. "Well, that's original. I mean, why are people reacting this way? What, is the show such an untouchable Rosetta Stone of brilliant characterization, clever writing and pungent social commentary?"

"Not since the first season."

"I know. It's not like a live-action movie can ruin it."

"And what is with this reactionary attitude toward live-action versions of cartoons? Some of them were pretty decent."

"Yeah. _Inspector Gadget_ was all right. So was _Popeye_, _Josie and the Pussycats_…"

"That one was hilarious."

"It was. _Speed Racer_…"

"That was a blast! Why did people hate that?"

"And that _Rocky & Bullwinkle_ movie was pretty good, too."

"Speaking of _Rocky & Bullwinkle_…" The young man opened another link. A new window appeared on screen. It showed Jason Alexander and Cheryl Hines decked out in, respectively, green and pink pompadours.

"This, I didn't see coming."

"Yeah. It's off-putting. Still…" The young man started as he pulled up the search engine page and typed furiously. "…is it any more off-putting than this?" No sooner had he finished the sentence than the picture of Hank Azaria as Gargamel appeared before the woman's eyes.

"Yikes! No!"

He closed the window. "Besides, this isn't going to, like, destroy their careers. She's on 'Curb Your Enthusiasm' and he was 'Duckman'. Respect." The young man scanned the news story. "Here's something interesting: 'to be directed by Savage Steve Holland'."

"So?"

"'So'? He wrote and directed _Better Off Dead_. He's perfect for a live-action cartoon."

"I've never seen_ Better Off Dead_."

"Are you serious?"

"I never got around to it."

"You know that 'South Park' when they went to Aspen?"

"Yeah."

The young man gave her a look that said, 'well, there you are'.

"Oh. I might want to see that."

"You know something else coming from this movie? Residual checks."

"That's right." The woman picked up the letters she'd carried in. "Some more came in the mail."

The two of them tore through the envelopes, glancing over the checks that ranged from ninety dollars to…

"38 cents?", the man exclaimed.

"Maybe, we should've gone for direct deposit. Tim?"

"Yeah, Virginia?"

"Do you ever regret it?"

"What?"

"Allowing them to make a show based on our lives."

"I didn't used to. I mean, sure, they added the fairies and the-" Tim put up air quotes. "'wacky' supporting characters, but I thought it was a pretty good story."

"How far along are you?"

"What?"

"On your book. Don't pretend you weren't working on it when I walked in."

"Halfway."

Virginia leaned on Tim's shoulder. "Tim…"

"I really want the story out there. People need to know."

"I know you want it out there. I just hope you're not setting yourself up for a fall. There are a lot of writers out there, but there aren't that many successful ones."

"You don't think I can make it?"

"I didn't say that. I just want you to see the reality."

"I want to see myself finishing. Reality can wait."

Virginia kissed Tim's ear. "Not for too long. So, you excited for the movie?"

Tim shrugged. "I guess so."

"You guess so? They're finally telling the story of us getting together. I'd think your reaction would be a little more excited."

"Ehh, maybe we'll watch it."

"'Maybe'?"

"I mean, it's kind of a priority. Just not a really high one."

"Okay. Fair enough."

"Of course, the ending won't be as cool as the one we created."

"That much is true, Mr. Turner."

"I love you, Mrs. Turner." Tim kissed his wife passionately.

"I love you, too." Virginia returned the gesture before reaching over to click the 'X' on the internet browser.

A/N: Yep. I've heard that a "Fairly OddParents" movie is airing sometime next year. The conversation between Tim and Virginia pretty much reflects my opinions on the matter, especially the part about how the movie will ruin the show (seriously, anyone who genuinely thinks this needs to lay off the airplane glue).

It's been such a long time since I've added anything to "Some of a Batch", but (thanks to a silly little picture I've encountered recently) I may soon be adding another installment.

Thanks for reading.


End file.
